


I’m not as good as you think I am (nor as bad as you think I am)

by cian1675



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Camboy!Peter, Gen, M/M, Peter's 25 in this, Peter-centric, Platonic Petting, Quarter-Life Crisis, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, character exploration, except that's not what happens, mentions of platonic petplay, slightly depressed!peter, slightly jaded! peter, who tries to get a sugar daddy for a short while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cian1675/pseuds/cian1675
Summary: The first reply to his newly created profile on sugarbabes.com comes while he’s on the roof, in his Spider-man suit. Peter eyes the notification on his phone’s lockscreen, the innocuous “1 new message” conveniently blank and generic, safe from stray eyes.His heart catches. Peter’s finger hovers over the screen, undecided if he wants to read it now while he’s supposed to be patrolling.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 232





	I’m not as good as you think I am (nor as bad as you think I am)

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a cross between MCU Peter and Into the Spider-verse's Peter B. Parker. I imagine Peter as an older version of Tom Holland in "Far From Home", with a dash of the jadedness Peter B, Parker has in the animated movie. Anywho, heed the tags, and enjoy ~

The first reply to his newly created profile on sugarbabes.com comes while he’s on the roof, in his Spider-man suit. Peter eyes the notification on his phone’s lockscreen, the innocuous “1 new message” conveniently blank and generic, safe from stray eyes.

His heart catches. Peter’s finger hovers over the screen, undecided if he wants to read it now while he’s supposed to be patrolling. A second later, familiar footsteps echo in the stairwell opening to the roof and Peter’s hand automatically slips the phone back into his hidden pocket – decision made for him.

“Howdy, Spidey,” Deadpool says, wriggling his fingers with a flourish.

Peter sighs. He doesn’t have the energy for this.

“What do you want?”

Under the overly bright street lights, Deadpool presses an exaggerated hand into his chest –

_(Broad, well-defined pecs filling out his leather suit, no, stop, don’t think about it –)_

“Wow, did I catch you in a bad mood, Spidey?”

Peter would scowl, but Spider-man… Spider-man’s bigger than that. And technically, Deadpool hasn’t even done anything, other than be himself. Or what Peter knows of him anyway, from the last few times they had crossed paths. Peter inhales, taking a long slow breath, before he breathes out, equally measured.

“Why are you here?”

Deadpool shrugs, not commenting on how Peter didn’t answer his question.

“I was hoping to join you in your patrol? Fight small-time crime, help a granny cross the road, that sort of friendly neighbourhood stuff. You said I could come along the last time we met but we haven’t done it so I thought I’ll come and ask? I’ve been good lately. Haven’t even un-alived anyone.” There’s a pause where Peter doesn’t reply, and then Deadpool’s rambling along, “Of course, if you don’t want me patrolling with you, I totally understand. Can’t have your good reputation ruined by being seen patrolling with me, a known mercenary, huh. Don’t worry, I get it. I’ll just be out of your hair now –”

He’s forgotten how Deadpool gets, or why he had agreed to let the mercenary patrol with him in the first place. Granted, when Peter made the offer, he hadn’t really though through how he would actually do it, but he had meant it when he offered. Peter starts to run his fingers through his hair, before remembering his mask covered all of it. His fingers end up on the back of his neck, idle.

“My reputation’s never been good really, on account of the Bugle.” He looks at Deadpool, remembers how the mercenary got injured the last time they met because he was trying to protect Peter without killing, just because Spider-man had said he couldn’t kill. It was…

Strange. To have someone look up to him. Touching too. But mostly strange.

_(“Holy shit, it’s Spidey! You’re my hero!” Deadpool had shouted the first time they met.)_

He waves the memory away before he gets distracted. “If you want to patrol with me, you gotta keep up,” Peter voices instead, jumping down and shooting a web to pull himself up at the last minute. He only spares a glance to make sure Deadpool’s following, and then he’s swinging through the streets.

***

He hadn’t planned to, but when a viewer comments on his livestream, Peter finds himself saying, “Oh yeah, it’s true. I did make a profile on sugarbabe. That is me, and not an imposter if you were wondering – and oh, _uhghh_ –”

He finds his prostrate before he expects it, because Peter’s _good_ at this, even with a brand new dildo and on all fours in an awkward angle to best show his ass off to the camera. The many subscribers to his content is proof of that. Unfortunately, while the pay as a camboy is decent, it is still not quite enough for the amount of food Peter’s super high metabolism needs, or the supplies Peter needs when he gets injured as Spider-man, or the number of times Peter has to remake his suit because it has too many holes and gashes to be mended.

He doesn’t expect the impromptu shout-out to his sugar baby profile on his livestream to do anything – there’s a reason why Peter needs to find an alternative source of income despite his relative success as a camboy; it’s because his subscribers are regular folks who can spare some money here and there but not much else – but when he finishes his shower after the livestream, there are more new messages on his sugarbabe profile.

“Huh,” Peter hums, biting into a protein bar as he scrolls through it.

***

He meets a few of the more promising su…

Sponsors.

Right. Sponsors.

(Despite being twenty-five, Peter has no issues thinking of himself as a sugar baby. Somehow though, he doesn’t really want to call the other person his sugar daddy.)

In the end, most of the potential sponsors are well-dressed middle-aged men who like how young Peter looks which –

 _Creepy_ –

And also, Peter immediately crosses out the one who has a lighter ring of skin on his fourth finger, because he might be okay with being sponsored in exchange for sexual favours but he really doesn’t want to help wreck someone’s marriage. Most of them want something akin to a boyfriend-boytoy thing they can call anytime, in exchange for an allowance and lavish gifts. Peter smiles through the various meetings in high-end restaurants, thanking them for his time and telling them he’ll consider their offer even as his spider-sense tingles, not quite a warning but not exactly nothing either. The men’s faces blur together after he’s met more than a handful of them.

Maybe he’ll just sell some of his blood to the vampires downtown for money instead, Peter thinks. It’s worked as a temporary income in the past, and he can always do it again. And if it was just him, it’ll be fine, but Aunt May’s gotten older and sicker and Peter’s been lying about his job so she doesn’t feel guilty taking his money. So yeah. Not really an option there. Camming doesn’t pay the same as a job at Stark Industries.

(Which is a job he doesn’t have. Which was a job he could have had, actually, if he hadn’t skipped his interview because of a bank robbery happening on his way to SI, but that’s all in the past now, and there’s no point regretting, is there?)

In the end, instead of making a decision, Peter finds himself at a bar. He only finds out it’s a place for kinksters when Dominic, the bartender tells him someone wants to talk to him, and he turns to where she’s pointing to find a man with a leather dog mask dressed completely in shiny black latex nodding at him.

And by completely, Peter means _completely_. The latex is a one-piece thing and Peter can’t see anything of the man in front of him, no skin showing, the colour of his eyes obscured by the shadow of the leather mask, the shape of his face hidden by the contours of the dog snout. The only thing obvious is how built the man is because the latex is form-fitting and leaves nothing to the imagination.

“Dom said you wanted to talk to me?” is what Peter settles for as he approaches the guy, drink in hand.

He’s not sure what he expects, but the guy replying in sign language wasn’t on the list.

He’s pretty sure the guy doesn’t expect him to sign back. Even through the mask, Peter sees the surprise spread through the guy’s body, before a series of rapid hand signs follow.

 _Slow down_ , Peter signs, _I’m a beginner._

In the end, through a series of texts typed on the guy’s phone, Peter works out that the guy just wants someone to pat his head as he lies on a person’s lap the way a regular dog would. As far as kinks go, it’s relatively mild, and Peter’s touch-starved enough to agree. He hasn’t had much time for anything besides being Spider-man, camming to make enough to make ends meet, and then squeezing in more time to be Spider-man again. Stroking the stranger’s head is weirdly soothing, and well, if he gets a bit of a chub in his pants, well, no one has to know.

And if the man later offers him money to do the same on a weekly basis, and Peter agrees? Well, that’s not something anyone else has to know either.

***

Some days, Peter wants to hang up his suit. He’s been Spider-man and fighting crimes since he was fifteen, and now, ten years later, the crime rate is still high and it feels more pointless than ever.

(Camming is an okay income for now, while he’s young, but what would he do when he gets older? What other kinds of job can he do while also being Spider-man without being exhausted all the time? He’s already tired _now_. And don’t even talk about maintaining friendships and relationships. Peter’s either scared that the people he cares about will come to danger because he’s Spider-man and Spider-man has enemies, or he ends up inevitably pushing them away with the number of lies he tells to hide when Spider-man is suddenly needed over regular old Peter Parker and he’s… he’s just _tired_.)

“Penny for your thoughts,” Deadpool says suddenly, right next to his ear, and Peter jumps, only narrowly avoiding falling off the edge of the roof because he’s Spider-man.

“ _Don’t_ scare me,” Peter manages to say when he regains his footing, wondering why his Spider-senses didn’t warn him of Deadpool’s proximity now that his brain’s back online again.

“I’m sorry,” Deadpool says, and actually sounds sincere. “I’ve been here for the last five minutes and I wasn’t exactly quiet so I thought you would have noticed.”

Now Peter feels guilty.

“I just have a lot on my mind,” Peter says. He’s about to jump off the roof on their usual patrol route when Deadpool suddenly leans closer, peering at him.

“Are you okay?”

The question is so unexpected – uttered so freely and sincerely that Peter feels his eyes get wet.

“I’m… I’m fine,” he blurts out hastily, before releasing a web and jumping off the roof.

I’m fine, Peter thinks. I will be fine.

He webs up more criminals than usual that night, Deadpool helps without un-aliving anyone, and neither of them gets injured. Peter decides that’s good enough.

***

It’s later, when he’s with Doggo that Peter finally admits he’s not fine.

(The man who pays him to pet his head never talks while they’re together, and dogs don’t name themselves, so it makes sense that it’ll be Peter who would name him. Still, Peter’s not exactly… creative, and Doggo is kind of uninspired, but the name stuck and who’s to tell him he can’t? The man doesn’t safeword out of it or sign to tell him differently so Peter figures that Doggo’s fine.)

He doesn’t realise Doggo’s doing a double-tap on his thigh until the man sits up on the hotel bed. And he doesn’t realise why Doggo has used his safeword until he hears –

“Please stop putting yourself down.”

Peter blinks, head tilted up to look at Doggo who’s since drawn himself to full height. The man is taller than Peter remembers. Whenever they meet, he’s usually on the bed or curled across Peter’s lap. The breadth of the shoulders, the timbre of his voice –

“You were talking to yourself, putting yourself down. Please stop doing that,” Doggo adds when Peter doesn’t say anything.

“I need to go,” is what Peter manages to get out in the end. “I’m sorry.”

He hightails his way out of the hotel without taking the cash that’s on the dresser, and it’s only when he’s at least two blocks away does Peter let himself slip into an alley, slumping onto the floor. He knows that voice. He knows the built of that body.

It’s Deadpool.

Peter doesn’t go on patrol as Spider-man for a few days after that.

***

Peter doesn’t intend to say a word of it to Deadpool. He avoids patrolling until he feels okay enough, and it works, mostly, for two nights until Deadpool says –

“I thank my lucky stars every day that you let me patrol with you. That you let me _learn_ from you, how exciting! You’re my hero, you know that, the way you have your principles and stick to it. I think I’ve said that before, but there’s no harm saying it again –”

“I’m not that good,” Peter blurts out, doesn’t realise what he’s said until Deadpool stops talking and blinks at him. Despite the nickname Deadpool has, the merc with a mouth stays silent, waiting until Peter eventually sighs.

“I’m not that good,” Peter says again. “I’m not as good as you think, Deadpool.”

“Why?”

Peter shrugs, not sure where to start. “I’m not. I’m an adult who barely has a job, fighting crime at night and barely making a dent in the crime rate while my own life is falling apart.” He shrugs again. “I’m really not the hero you think I am.”

Before Deadpool opens his mouth and say something to counter it, Peter squeezes his eyes close and blurts out –

“Those principles you admire me for? Have brought me nothing but trouble. I want to believe everyone can change, but I still do, but do you know how many of the criminals that I’ve helped put in jail get released from jail and end up still doing crime? And making sure that people are safe as Spider-man? Do you know the number of times I’ve had to lie to people in my life, the number of times I had to skip out on things because I had to intervene in something as Spider-man? I can’t say anything to the people I care about even though I want to, and it’s for their safety, and it _sucks_ , and if you knew me in real life you’ll think I’m a huge flake.”

At that, Peter laughs, because, oh _yeah_ , he had known Deadpool outside as just himself, even if he hadn’t known that he was Deadpool for most of their interactions. And it had ended in Peter flaking too, hadn’t it? And Deadpool hadn’t even known that it was Peter.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, partly for how he’s going to run out on Deadpool again like he always does, partly for disappointing Deadpool because he’s not the role model the merc thought he was. And then, because Deadpool deserves to know –

“I’m sorry about the night I left you as Doggo too.”

Before he can see Deadpool’s reaction to the last admission, Peter swings away.

***

He contemplates blocking Deadpool’s number – both of them, the one for the merc, and the one for discussing playdates when he was Doggo – but in the end, Peter doesn’t. It’s not a surprise then, that Deadpool eventually finds him. What is a surprise, is that Deadpool finds him while he’s Peter, making a grocery run.

“A growing boy like you needs more than instant food,” is what Deadpool say when Peter walks out of the grocer.

Peter blinks, taking it in, the lack of Deadpool’s usual red and black costume, replaced by a plain navy hoodie and grey sweatpants. He understands now why Deadpool was always fully covered, and Doggo never showed his skin. The man is covered in what looks like burn scars on his face and hands, and that’s only what Peter can see.

“I’m not a growing boy anymore. I’m twenty-five.”

Deadpool shrugs. “A growing man, then.” He falls into step next to Peter, and Peter doesn’t stop him. They walk in silence for a few blocks. It’s when they’re almost at Peter’s flat that Deadpool says, “I thought about what you said, the other day.”

“And?”

“And you’re right,” Deadpool says, “You’re probably not as good as everyone thinks you are, whether as Spider-man, or your regular self.”

“…Peter,” Peter decide to say, for some reason. “That’s my name, my regular identity.”

“Peter,” Deadpool repeats. “Well, you can call me Wade if you want. Anyway, you’re probably not as good as everyone thinks you are, whether as Spidey or as Peter.”

Peter nods, wondering where this is going. He can’t tell Deadpool’s, no, Wade’s tone, whether this would go badly or not.

“I’m sorry,” Peter starts to say, but Wade puts up a finger, shaking his head.

“Let me finish. You’re probably not as bad as you think you are either, Peter. No one is completely good or bad. Isn’t that what you believe in when you give everyone a second chance?”

“Yes,” Peter answers, voice suddenly tight. The back of his eyes prickles.

“Then you should know it applies to you too. I may admire you for your good qualities but I’m not blind to the fact that you have bad ones too. You’re not good with communicating, for example.” Deadpool shrugs. “So yeah, I know that you’re not all good. Maybe I didn’t say it aloud, but I know that. But the question is, do _you_ know that?”

He’s not sure what he would say, but then Peter finds his cheeks turning damp, and it turns out that that’s his answer.

When Wade moves in to hug him, he telegraphs the whole way and Peter lets him – lets him come closer and closer until Wade’s chest is against Peter’s cheek, and in the end, Peter hugs him back, at a loss for words. For a good five minutes, Peter just cries, quiet ugly sobs soaking the front of Wade’s hoodie. Wade pats him gently on the back until he slowly calms down, and then, when Peter finally gets his voice back, he manages to say –

“… I, uh. Thank you, for that.”

His voice is quiet, but he means it.

“You’re welcome,” Wade replies without fanfare, matter-of-fact. He looks at Peter, and then, squeezes his shoulder lightly. "I heard you, I know you’re not all good but neither am I. Well, I’m not all bad either, if you’re willing to patrol with me. _Was_ willing to patrol with me.”

Peter stifles a laugh as Wade rambles on.

“Anyway, the point I was going for is, I don’t have an issue with the different sides of you, and I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to. So, tell me, Peter, do _you_ want me to go?”

Peter wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. And makes sure to take a deep breath for good measure.

“No, no, you can stay.”

 _I want you to stay_ , he doesn’t say. Instead, when Peter looks down at the grocery bags in hand, he decides to ask –

“Do you… do you want to come up for dinner?”

It catches Wade by surprise for a moment, but then a smile spreads on his lips, slightly crooked.

“I’ll love that,” Wade replies, taking the offer for what Peter doesn’t say.

“I’ll love that.”

**Author's Note:**

> As with a lot of character exploration types of fic, I'm not sure what I think of this. I read a form of the title somewhere (I’m not as good as you think I am. I'm not as bad as you think I am), and the phrase won't leave me. So I decided on a whim to flesh it out and this fic happened. There were a lot of things that got mentioned but not fully developed, and I'm not sure how the story read overall, so I would love to hear your thoughts on this :)
> 
> Also, a PSA of sorts if anyone feels similarly to Peter in this:  
> In this fic, Wade has Peter's back, which is great, but not critical. What's really more important is that Peter himself understands that no one, including him, is completely good or bad, and to (eventually) learn to accept himself as it is.


End file.
